


Tea, Earl Grey, Hot

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Leverage
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s04e05 The Hot Potato Job, F/M, Femdom, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, Roleplay, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bergamot soothes Sophie's throat. It has a different effect on Nate now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea, Earl Grey, Hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poetry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry/gifts).



> This is for [Poetry](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetry), who gave me the prompt that inspired this story. When she asked for Nate/Sophie or the OT3 finding something sexy about a role undertaken for a con and bringing it into the bedroom (so to speak), I knew at once what I wanted to do. I've been saying I would eventually get around to writing Sophie topping Nate, and now I have. Thanks to Poetry also for the title and to dizzy-redhead for a quick beta!

Nate woke alone to an unusual but strangely familiar fragrance. He was emptying his bladder before he realized it was the scent of bergamot, which meant Earl Grey tea, which meant--

Sophie smiled at him over her teacup. A plate with crumbs and a smear of butter sat to her left, a jar of honey in the shape of a bear to her right. Nate smiled back, scratching his chest, and noticed the coffeemaker had just switched on.

"Tea, Earl grey, hot?" he quoted, bending close for a kiss. She tasted strongly of the tea.

Sophie ran her fingers into his curls. "Captain Picard is sexy, but I prefer my men with hair." She turned away on a sudden cough and followed it with a less-than-delicate sip of the tea.

"You're not coming down with something, are you?"

"No, it's--" She flapped her fingers at her throat. "All that time spent talking like Eliot. Takes its toll on the throat. Does he really have to talk like that? It can't be natural." She slipped off the stool and went to turn on the electric kettle. Now he knew why she'd insisted he should have one. "The bergamot soothes my throat." She went into the cupboard for another teabag. Nate admired the curve of her bottom under his button-down shirt.

"Yeah, well, it was--" Nate coughed, "it was kinda sexy." He made haste to the coffeemaker as Sophie shut the cupboard door.

"Sexy, hmm?" Her hand on his shoulder was a light touch, but Nate realized he would probably have a sexual response to the smell of bergamot from now on, which could be inconvenient. He tried to fuss over the coffee, but since he took it black, there wasn't much he could do with his hands.

"Yeah, well, I guess--"

"In what way?" Sophie's fingers trailed up over his ear, brushing back his hair from his increasingly warm face. "What did you like about it?"

Be a man, Ford, said a voice in his head that sounded all too much like his father's. Look a woman in the eye, even if you're about to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Especially then.

He met Sophie's eyes. She was smiling, teasingly, but not offended or upset with him. Playfully. Sophie Devereaux could play a thousand roles on the stage of the con, even a hard-headed hitter like Eliot Spencer. Of course she could bring those roles into the bedroom, too. Sophie Devereaux could be any woman a man wanted, when the situation required it.

The problem was, Nate just wanted... Sophie Devereaux. Or whatever her name really was.

In the meantime, however. "The voice was good. Not necessarily the accent--" her smile broadened-- "but that lower register. You know. Throaty." He felt like a burbling idiot, again. How did this woman do that to him? "And the way you held yourself. The stance." He went for a grin. "It was a very distinctive stance."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it." The words came out in Eliot's raspy drawl, and damned if Nate didn't get hard, just then, that fast. The combination of less whiskey and more Sophie was doing *wonders* for his refractory period.

In the blink of an eye, her posture had shifted, recreating the borrowed body language she had used at Verd Agra. Straight-backed and square-shouldered, she stared at him with Eliot's cool, assessing gaze, the one that looked for every vulnerable spot and found it. She put her cup of tea down on the counter and, without looking away from Nate, rolled up her shirt sleeves a little further, exposing her slim forearms.

Nate swallowed. 

"Had a little trouble letting me run the play, didn't you, Nate?" How the hell could she sound so much like Spencer? "Not comfortable takin' orders from a woman?"

"It's not that," he started to say, but she put her hand over his mouth. Not one finger on his lips, shushing him sweetly, but her whole hand, her thumb catching him under the jaw. Nate went so still that he noticed he was shaking a little.

"A good team has to be able to cover each other. Step into each other's shoes. You may be the mastermind, but you gotta learn to rotate positions. Gotta trust your people more."

Her other hand came up and tugged at his hair, and it was the easiest thing in the world to sink to his knees in front of her, to look up as she cupped his unshaven jaw in one hand and twined the fingers of her other hand more closely into his curls.

"How about a little practice, Nate? Show me you know how to take a cue." Her fingers slipped away and he said, "Yes, ma'am" before he could censor the words. 

Sophie put her hands on her hips, every inch the confident hitter. "Take off my shorts."

They weren't shorts. They were the little lacy panties he remembered peeling off of her last night, after dinner. He pulled them gently down her legs and she stepped out of them, planting her feet wide. 

"How 'bout you show me what else that mouth can do besides *talk*?"

Last night he'd peeled those panties off her, pushed her back onto the bed, and licked her until she squealed. As far as his groin was concerned right now, that had never happened. He was incredibly turned on, and when she lifted her shirt to expose her crotch, it was like he was seeing her private parts for the first time. He leaned in and took a quick whiff of her, filling his brain with the scent of last night's sex, her juices mingled with his own. Dizzy, he braced one hand against the counter as he pressed closer and ran his tongue out to catch her clit.

Her hand clamped down on the back of his neck and hauled him closer. One hip cocked, she rubbed herself on his face while he moved frantically trying to keep up with her. He didn't think she had come yet when she pulled him away, but he was the one who whimpered. He looked down and saw the embarrassing blot on his boxer shorts, where his pre-come had soaked through the cloth.

"Not bad for a start." She ran her fingers down her belly, into the cleft of her cunt, and drew them out wet, brought them to her mouth. Nate was half-aware that his tongue was practically hanging out. "Looks like you got a problem there, though."

She lifted one bare foot and nudged his cock. Nate thought he might come then and there. "Why don't you give that a little attention?"

It took a moment for his sex-drunk brain to process what she was asking him to do. He'd never--not even with--the priests used to-- He swallowed and pushed all of that back down. Sophie was tapping her foot and it shouldn't have been as intimidating as it was. Nate took hold of his courage with one hand and reached into his shorts for his cock with the other.

"Pull it out," she said, her voice flat and gravelly. Biting his lip, Nate pushed his shorts out of the way and wrapped his shaking hand around his erection. Christ, he hadn't gotten this hard in years. He thought for a while the drink had washed it out of him, the ability to want like this, the way his body came alive. He ran his hand lightly from the base to the head and back again, gripped harder and slid up to squeeze the head.

"Easy there, boy. Don't wanna go off too soon. I got plans for that." Sophie fisted her hand in his shirt; he came up like a ragdoll, not so much because she was pulling him as because she wanted him up. Her hand pushed his aside and gripped him, hard, gave him a couple of rough strokes before she backed off, trailing her nails over his balls. He was shaking so hard his teeth were nearly chattering. 

He was startled when she turned her back on him and braced her hands on the edge of the counter. "Give it to me, Nate." No entreaty, all command. "Just like this, right here." She reached back to pull up the shirt and bare her rump, the beautiful curve he had fondled last night, then spread her legs further and dipped her hand to spread her lips, beckoning him in.

With a groan, he stumbled out of his shorts and up against Sophie, getting a hand on her smooth hot thigh for stability as he tried to aim with the other hand. Push, shift, *thrust*, and suddenly he had it right, Sophie on her toes with her belly against the edge of the counter, balanced on his cock that speared deep inside her, into that hot sweet space where he always wanted to be.

In spite of the crazy hotness of it, it took him a while to come. He fucked her and groped her, kissed and bit the back of her neck and the side of her throat, sloppy and rough and the whole fucking time she never quite lost character, growling like a cougar and saying "C'mon, c'mon" in that taunting way Eliot had when he knew somebody couldn't take him. His climax was nearly painful, and his back was gonna bitch later, but god *damn*, it felt good, pouring himself out into this woman while she shook and came and slapped her hands again and again on the counter.

They stood still for a moment, locked together, Sophie slumped forward and Nate gripping her hips for dear life. Then Sophie chuckled, and it was all Sophie, light and silvery, giving him a rush of--relief? and of affection for her. 

"You owe me a box of Earl Grey," she said, her voice a bit ragged. Nate eased backward, withdrawing; he went for the paper towels, but Sophie reached for her teacup. As he patted her gently with a warm wet towel, she looked at him over her shoulder, mischievous.

"I had fun, Nate. Did you?"

"Ah, yeah." He shuffled to the table, feeling stupid walking around with no shorts on, and grabbed a paper napkin for the drying off stage. Sophie turned to look at him, folding her arms over her chest as he carefully dried her crotch.

"It was just a game, after all. Just like any of our cons." She stroked his arm softly. "And I'm not averse to games where I take orders, instead of giving them."

Something dark flickered in Nate's belly. "Really."

"Really." Her hand stroked over his shoulder, his chest. "I had some toast, but why don't we go out for breakfast? That diner two blocks over is open."

He took hold of her wandering hand for a moment, searching her face. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it. He kissed her knuckles and smiled. "That sounds good. After a shower. Wanna join me?"

"I'd be delighted."

He followed her into the bathroom.


End file.
